Dancing Demon
by MistyLady
Summary: Carlotta challenges Christine and Erik to a contest, Christine decides she's not going to take crap from anybody anymore, and Erik is constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown. Modern setting and an attempt at being nearly angst free.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I would have liked this to take place back in the original era of Phantom, however several technical aspects would not be possible (i.e. really good pre-recorded music). I'm trying to keep some of the old-world charm of the story but this is a fun one for me. I'm going to try to avoid the angst as much as possible and make the story amusing. Characters' likenesses are based off of the movie version.  
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_Disclaimer: Well, since this is fanfiction, it is obviously based off of already published and therefore copyrighted work. All characters and such that seem familiar are property of Leroux, Kay, ALW, et.all. If any parts of the storyline seem familiar yet not from the afore mentioned people, you are probably either from Caz or are weird (I apologize if I accidentally use a major part of someone's already-posted story, please let me know!) Any song lyrics used are property of the stated groups/persons and their associates. I wish I could profit from this story (and thus, their use) but I cannot and will not._

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**Dancing Demon  
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Chapter 1

"ERIK!" I shrieked as I stormed down the stairs to his underground lair. Taken by utter surprise at my uncharacteristic entrance, I must have startled him because when I stepped into the music room I found Erik on his knees frantically trying to gather scattered sheet music from the stone floor. He glared at me from the floor as he tried to organize the stack in his hand. I noticed a candle had tipped over and had set flame to one of his papers. I motioned towards it and he jumped like a frightened cat to stomp out the flames. I cannot recall how many times I warned him that although candlelight is wildly romantic, a great fire risk is posed by having a room lit entirely by candles. Traditional eccentric romanticist that he is, Erik always insisted on composing by candlelight. He shot another glare in my direction. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sorry," I mumbled. A grunt was all I got in return. After placing the disheveled stack of papers back on his piano, he turned back to face me.

"Now, my dearest Christine, what is the matter?" he said with great annoyance. Evidently I interrupted something important. I could feel my face grow hot in anger.

"Carlotta is back to her old tricks," I spat. The obnoxious diva with a superiority complex was constantly trying to prove that she is better than everyone else. I will admit that there's nothing wrong with a little healthy competition but she doesn't compete; she sabotages and brings others down in order to get to the top. Luckily, I was able to stay under her radar for a while, but with a recent turn of events where I sang a lead role in her stead due to an illness, I had become her number one target.

"She has really outdone herself this time. Sometimes I wish she would just disappear," I said with disgust. I noticed a flicker in Erik's face and he raised his visible eyebrow. "No, Erik. I didn't mean it that way." I had momentarily forgotten who I was talking to. Erik was the kind of man I had to be clear with. If I said I wanted someone dead or to disappear, he would be more than happy to oblige, even more so when it had to do with Carlotta. Frankly, I am surprised that she has escaped his wrath thus far.

I shuddered at the morbid disappointment he displayed. There are times when I just don't get Erik and his craving for violence. On the other hand, I find it quite flattering—and oddly comforting—that I have him as an ally should such measures be necessary.

"What I meant to say is that I just wish she would stop this foolishness. I don't care who she considers best because she will always believe it to be herself. I just wish she would be content with that and leave the rest of us alone. I wish she would leave me alone!" Erik just stood in silence as I raved. He is sometimes a good listener, except when he's not.

"What has she done now?" he asked in a concerned voice. I just shook my head and handed him the flier I had crumpled in my hand. He gingerly took the piece of paper and smoothed it out. As his eyes skimmed the text, I could see the visible side of his face turn more and more white with each line. When finished, he lifted his head and had the deer-in-the-headlights look and I couldn't quite make out where the mask on his face started. He truly looked like he had just seen a ghost, but of course I knew that wasn't the case. I'm sure I displayed a similar expression when I first saw the flier taped up in the dormitory bathroom of the Opera House. I tore it down immediately in disbelief. Of all the rotten things Carlotta could have done, this was probably the worst. Not only was she trying to embarrass me, she was attempting to disprove my sanity. I told Erik this.

"B-b-but why?" he stuttered, still dumbfounded. I have never heard Erik stutter once the whole while I've known him. I believe the poor guy was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Because even after all of this, Carlotta believes that you are something I've made up. She doesn't believe there is a Phantom of the Opera, that all of the 'accidents' that have occurred are Raoul's doing." Erik's face went from white to crimson.

"Are you telling me that she is giving all of the credit to that FOP!" he steamed. "I may not be proud of my past actions, but some of them were brilliantly carried out. To think that she believes that mindless fairy-man could even dream up such work is utterly preposterous!" He started pacing around the room. I let him pace. It was more constructive than him bottling up his rage and exploding on the Vicomte. We have all agreed on a tenuous treaty where Erik and Raoul promise not to beat each other to bloody pulps, and I remain friends with both. I'm the moderator, so to speak. The treaty only calls for no violence; insults and the like are still fair game. I rolled my eyes, being reminded yet again that there is no love lost where those two men are concerned.

"She should die a slow, horrible death just for that," he continued to grumble.

"Erik! No more talk of that!" I scolded, hands on my hips. "Every other time Carlotta tried to pull something, you have intervened by doing something borderline evil. True, it may have worked for the moment, but it hasn't stopped anything." Erik stopped his pacing and waited for my point.

"I'm listening, go on," he urged after a few moments of silence. I was unsure of how exactly to put this.

"I think it may be time to play her game," I started hesitantly. I knew I was walking on some very thin ice with Erik's temper. "I think we should meet her challenge and have it completely backfire on her." I paused and looked for a reaction from my companion. I found none so I continued. "Of course she will advertise it as evidenced by this flier, so what better way to defeat her than by public embarrassment of her own doing. She will have no one to blame but herself."

"I just don't know, Christine," he said, throwing the flier at me. "Me being in public never ends well."

"I know," I replied. "But I don't see a way around this...without killing or maiming anyone." I shot him a meaningful look. "Please, Erik," I pleaded. "Do this for me?" I let my eyes go soft and pouted slightly. With my sad-puppy face, I could never be denied especially by Erik. This time was no exception.

"Oh, alright, alright. I'll do it. Just stop looking at me like that!" He stormed over to his piano bench and sat down, looking terribly shaken. "Don't blame me when they come after us with pitchforks and torches. You got me into this mess," he called over his shoulder.

I walked up behind him and threw my arms around his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thank you so much! I knew I could count on you!"

"Humph, now scamper off and leave me in peace to contemplate the most pleasant method of suicide."

"Stop being such a curmudgeon," I countered, placing the flier on top of his piano. "I will go for now, but you and I have much work to do in a week." That's right, one week. Exactly 7 days from now, the flesh-and-blood Phantom of the Opera and I—as advertised—were going to be competing in the _Dancing Divas _ballroom dancing competition.

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The _Dancing Divas _competition was founded twenty years ago as a fundraiser for Friends of the Opera, the non-profit organization now financing the Opera House restoration and operation. What started out as a small-town fundraiser has now grown into one of the most anticipated events in the area. One person from each couple must be an employee or a student of the Opera House, and the couples perform any style of ballroom dance to their chosen music in front of a judge's panel. There is a technical section and a freestyle section where anything goes, and the couple with the highest combined score wins the competition. On top of that, the audience is able to choose their favorite couple for an award as well. The top prize offered is five hundred dollars and a two hundred dollar award for People's Choice.

"Five HUNDRED dollars?" Meg squealed. "Where do I sign up!" I shook my head at my blond friend.

"The entry deadline was five weeks ago," I sighed. "Everyone else has a five-week lead on us." How were we ever going to pull something like this off? While better than average, I was never the best dancer in the world; Erik and Madame Giry were the main reasons I was accepted into the Opera House to begin with. As for Erik...to be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure about Erik. He certainly had the grace, but he did not have the patience.

"Relax, Christine," Meg took my hand and smiled. "You forget that a) Erik is an artistic genius and that he would do anything for you, b) you have the most strict and most disciplined choreographer and coach, my mother, and finally c) you have an entire Opera House worth of resources at your disposal and I'm sure everyone here would go above the call to see to see Carlotta get taken down. With everything you have on your side, you and Erik will come up with something brilliant. You can't fail!"

Meg, my cheerleader, always seems to know exactly when I need a pep talk. I smiled back at her, my worries melting away.

"Go find your mother, Meg, and fill her in. I will collect Erik from his Bat Cave and meet you in the small dance studio." Meg nodded and ran off. I turned to the large mirror in my room and flicked the hidden switch. The mirror slid open to reveal a dark, damp passageway. I remember a time when this passageway meant nothing but fear to me. Now, it was merely another door to another area of the Opera House, and I couldn't help but smile as I moved down it. I had come to dread what lay that the other end, but that has since changed to a feeling of coming home because I know a dear friend resides down there. The next seven days were going to be a major test of our friendship, but I have faith. Devotion as great as Erik's cannot be destroyed easily even by someone who once completely broke his heart.

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_A.N. Reviews and comments are greatly welcomed and even more greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome too, but please don't flame. If you are really unhappy with my fic for one reason or another or are insulted, don't read it._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"What have I done? What madness have I agreed to? What have I done!" I mumbled to myself as I rocked back and forth on my piano bench. Even the keys, which normally seemed to hold the answers to all of my problems, just sat blank. I could sense Christine coming up behind me, but I was completely numb. I heard her speak, (how could I not with a voice as rare and beautiful as hers?) but I only made out the words "...count on you!" Words seemed beyond me at the moment. Me? In a dance contest? I know people have been questioning my sanity for quite some time now, which of course I always denied. After the events of last few minutes, I was officially at the top of my list of doubters.

"Now scamper off and leave me in peace to contemplate the most pleasant method of suicide," I said, half joking when I found my voice again. Actually, I wasn't joking at all. This whole thing was suicide, _public_ suicide! The least I could do was to figure out a way to oft myself in private. I was beginning to feel that the fire, brimstone, and perpetual torment of Hell sounded like a nice alternative to this public display of lunacy. Christine then proceeded to call me a curmudgeon and informed me that my impending death would occur in one week's time. Fabulous.

Minutes passed after Christine left the lair before I dared look at the flier sitting before me on top of my piano.

"Dancing Divas: 20th Annual Ballroom Dancing Competition," it read on the bright pink paper. "Benefits Friends of the Opera House..." I kept reading in utter horror. I had only skimmed it before and nothing really sank in.

"Open to the public...Most anticipated event of the year...Tickets will sell out fast..." I tucked my knees up to my chest and nervously started running my right hand through my black slicked hair. Panic attack, I was getting a panic attack! _Breathe,_ _Erik_, I told myself trying to calm down. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breahe in one two three, breathe out one two three..._ My heart stopped racing so much but I could still feel sweat beading on the back of my neck. I forced myself to continue on.

"Carlotta Guidicelli, 3-time defending champion, returns to defend her title...Special appearance by Miss Christine Daaé and partner, The Phantom of the Opera a.k.a. the Opera Ghost." My heart stopped and any color that had returned to my face evaporated instantly. Good Lord. I know I have become quite infamous and legendary over my years residing here under the Opera House. An advertisement like this was sure to draw the entire city and beyond to witness the 'dancing demon'. This was not good. Oh, this was really _really_ not good. This was most definitely bad...bad bad bad...

"Erik! Are you here?" I snapped out of my mental breakdown and fell over backwards off of my bench. I just lay on the cold stone floor and hoped this was just a nightmare. How in the world was I going to survive this week?

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"Ok, we only have seven days to turn you two into ballroom dancing champions," Madame Giry said while pointing her cane at us. I looked over at Christine who was all smiles. I held my face in my usual expressionless manner as to not betray the nauseous feeling I was getting.

"We need to get started right away," she continued. "We first need to figure out what style of dances you want to pursue. Waltz? Foxtrot? Mambo? Quick step?"

"What about music? Would it not make more sense to choose our music and fit the style to that?" I inquired.

"Well," Madame Giry relented. "You could do it that way."

"That settles it then," I stood up to leave. "If you three ladies will excuse me, I am off to compose..." Christine grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.

"Oh, no you don't. We're not finished here. We still need to decide on costumes and..."

"I will take care of it. I will design and create the costumes myself."

"And the music?"

"I can do that too. I will compose something spectacular."

"Erik! When are you going to find time to compose and record music, make costumes, _and_ learn a new dance! We do only have a week, you know." Christine stood up and faced me, hands on her hips. This was her defiant stance. I knew anything I said during the course of the next five minutes had a good chance of upsetting her. I had to choose my words carefully.

"Christine, dear," I started hesitantly. "You do forget that I used to run every aspect of the Opera House only days, sometimes hours, before the productions _and_ had the added challenge of coercing the staff to perform my wishes."

"Oh, yes. I remember that quite well," she spat sarcastically and narrowed her eyes at me. I could see the train wreck coming.

"I remember running around frantic because everything had changed and I remember the stress of not being sure if everything was going to work out right until the curtain closed at the end of the first performance!"

"B-but everything always worked themselves out in the end," I insisted. As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I should have just kept them to myself. Christine's normally fair complexion turned bright red and let's just say that if looks could kill, there would be nothing left of me to bury.

"Worked out! WORKED OUT!" she shouted. "Joseph 'committing suicide' during the ballet chaos you created...Piangi's mysterious demise during Don Juan and your Houdini stunt afterwards...and oh yeah, and you _dropped a freaking_ _chandelier on the audience!_"

She yelled the last part so loud I cringed and covered my ears. She took a breath and composed herself.

"Is _that_ what you call 'working out alright'?" she asked in a strangled tone.

Even with my head down and my eyes staring at my shiny black shoes...oh, a smudge. I reached down and wiped it clean. _There, much better..._even with my head down and my eyes staring at my now perfectly shiny black shoes, I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, waiting for an answer. I had none to give as I was at a complete loss of words. Anything I said would only dig me that much deeper, yet not saying anything could lead to the same consequence.

"I think what Christine means is that you only told people what to do. You did not have to go around and actually put the changes into effect," Madame Giry said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I don't really believe in God and this whole "divine forgiveness" stuff, but I thanked God right then and there for that woman. I truly believed she saved my neck.

She shot Christine a look that said, 'You have made your point, now drop it.' Christine folded her arms over he chest and stormed across the room in a huff.

"Now look who's acting like the obnoxious diva, " I mumbled quietly to myself. Obviously it wasn't quiet enough because Christine immediately turned and threw her shoulder into me, knocking me roughly to floor. I lay their gasping for breath and cursing my damn tongue. Marveling at how often I seemed to be picking myself off of the floor lately, I glanced at the doorway and wished I built a trapdoor right here to disappear through.

"Well, now. This is certainly a spectacle to behold," smirked an amused Raoul de Changey with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Oh Lord, now my hell was complete.

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"Excuse me, could you tell me where Miss Daaé is?" I asked one of the stage hands. He shook his head and continued working. I straightened my sport coat and continued my search. It had been almost a since I had seen Christine so I figured I would pay her a visit since I was in town. Several of the ballet girls came skittering up in their satin toe shoes and giggled some sort of greeting. I politely said hello in return and proceeded to ask them where I might find Christine.

"Oh, _her,_" a lovely redhead said darkly, her smile fading into a look of disgust. "She's in the small studio with Madame Giry."

"Thank you."

"Whatever." She turned and walked away. It was obvious that she was jealous of Christine and would like nothing better than to see her gone. Oh well. _She wouldn't have had a shot with me anyhow,_ I thought with a shrug.

I turned and headed in the direction she carelessly gestured towards. I wove my way around set pieces and backdrops being set up for the next production and finally found the door I was looking for. As I approached, I could hear raised voices, especially that of Christine. I turned the corner not knowing what to expect and what I witnessed was about as far from my mind as it could possibly get.

Erik was sitting on one of the warm-up benches with Meg and Madame Giry sitting on one perpendicular to that. Christine was halfway across the floor, clearly upset about something. I heard a mumble from Erik and suddenly saw Christine lunge at him. He fell off the bench and lay sprawled on the floor for a few moments. Christine stood upright and returned to her place. I crossed my arms and leaned casually against the doorframe, completely amused by the sight.

"Well, now. This is certainly a spectacle to behold," I said when laughter threatened to burst forth. The emotions that showed on Erik's features were priceless. Within the span of a few seconds, he had gone from surprise, to embarrassment, to panicked, to anger, and finally over-exaggerated composure.

"Hello, Christine. Erik," I nodded a greeting.

"Hello, " Christine replied. A faint smiled played on her lips, telling me she was somewhat glad to see me. I heard a grunt from Erik's general direction which I figured to be the extent of greeting I was going to be receiving from him. I turned back to Christine.

"So, what was it exactly that I walked in on? If this was a let's-beat-Erik gathering, I am insulted that I failed to receive an invitation."

"Oh, it was just Erik being his incorrigible obstinate self," she fumed, glaring at him over my shoulder.

"I'm most certainly not..." he began but dropped off.

"Here, sir, this may help explain it," Meg handed me flier which I began to examine.

"You may want to sit down," she added. At first, I was confused and didn't see the connection, but soon I realized why I was advised to sit down. I collapsed in a fit of laughter onto the nearest chair. Tears began to overflow my eyes.

"You?" I addressed Erik. "In a _dance contest!_ Oh, this is too much. This is really too much!" I broke into hysterics and slapped my knee. I heard a menacing mumble from Erik but all I could do was shake my head in disbelief, sending my shoulder-length dark blond mane into waves. I finally regained my composure, but my sides and cheeks were aching. I don't believe I have laughed that hard in a very long time.

"So how did this all come about?" I asked. Christine informed me of Carlotta's challenge and her exact feelings about the diva. I tuned most of them out as I never cared much to be involved in women's issues. Erik had retreated to the far corner of the dance studio where he was carefully straightening a stack of folding chairs and stared at me darkly. I knew he was silently warning me, but this was all too ridiculous to be ignored.

"And you two are actually going to compete?" This was all just too out of character to for me to accept easily.

"If Erik would stop being so _pigheaded_, yes, we are going to compete and we are going to win."

"Can you even dance?" I inquired, turning to Erik who was still arranging folding chairs.

"Can you breathe?" he asked darkly.

"Of course I can breathe, but that doesn't..."

"It'll be a lot harder when you're hanging from the rafters!"

"GENTLEMEN!" Madame Giry halted the situation with stern tone and a sharp rap of her cane. "In case you have forgotten, we have a competition to get ready for. We do NOT have time for these childish games!"

We hung our heads like scolded children but shot each other a mutual look that said, 'This is not over.'

"Erik, you go and prepare music. Christine and Meg, you begin on costumes. I will start thinking of choreography," she commanded.

"But, I..." Erik argued. I could see he was wrestling with his perfectionist side and losing, but Madame Giry interrupted.

"I said GO. We will run everything past you when it's done. Now be gone!"

Everyone dispersed to start on their tasks and I soon found myself alone in the studio still in shock. _Erik? In the Dancing Divas contest!

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__A.N. Hope everyone likes my humorous take on Erik's fragile sanity and Christine's new-found inner strength. Do you think this story is worth continuing? Please review. The more I get, the more motivated I am to write_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I found my task rather easy, and composing always lifted my spirits. Having Raoul standing there in the dance studio laughing at me did nothing to improve my mood and I was this close to forgetting our little truce and ringing that dullard's neck. After all, I had said it myself that oaths aren't worth anything except to catch gulls with...whatever that meant, but I had tried to turn my attentions away from the temptation and found that some folding chairs needed straightening out.

Another few measures came to my mind and I turned my attention back the piano to try them out. Nodding in satisfaction, I wrote them down on the blank lines of the paper. To make things easier and more efficient, I decided to combine several songs together into a flowing medley. It was going to be beautiful, although not spectacular on the piano; I was planning on coercing the Opera's orchestra to record it using their 100 piece ensemble. I already had an ingenious idea for our freestyle song forming in my head.

Smiling in satisfaction, I added a few finishing touches and played the entire composition through several times before moving over to my digital piano that was hooked to a computer. I hate computers but found that for creating orchestra music, I would be foolish for not investing in one. Most of the time, I was ready to throw that damned thing into the lake, but miraculously managed to rein in my frustration. I laid the main tracks down and proceeded to add in the bass and other background sections. The sound of the synthesized instruments that blared through the speakers annoyed me to no end. How could digitized sound even remotely compare to a life orchestra? I will admit, however, that at least it gave me a closer idea of what the final result would be compared to simply playing all parts on the piano.

I saved the file, printed out the different sections, and burned a CD of the synthesized music to practice with until I got the orchestra recorded. I organized the papers and was about go back to the studio when I noticed the Vicomte standing just outside my music room.

"Lurking in doorways is not only rude, Chagney, it's also quite hazardous to your health when they happen to me _my_ doorways," I said darkly, glaring at him. The scared look on his face amused me.

"But I gave Christine my word that no harm to you would be done by my hand, so you might as well come in," I added in strained courtesy. I may be considered a monster, but at least I can be well mannered when I wish. He entered and looked around.

"I don't trust your word. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you," he said with quiet confidence.

"Which obviously wouldn't be very far at all," I replied, taking note of his scrawny frame. "Seems like the wealthy life has made you soft, boy."

Anger flashed in the young man's eyes and he spun around to face me, opening his mouth to comment.

"I'd watch myself if I were you," I interrupted. "You are in my domain and walking on very thin ice. Now, before I lose my patience, for what purpose did you choose to trespass down here?" By this time I was looming over him and relishing in the slight wide-eye expression I was observing.

"I-I..." he gasped.

"Come, now. Say what you want to say or leave, damnit!" He stood up taller and took a deep breath to regain his composure. He then looked me straight in the eye and replied,

"I came to see how things were going." I was shocked. Did I just hear him right?

"E-excuse me?" I stuttered. It was Raoul's turn to smirk. It seems he finally rendered me as dim as he.

"I had nothing better to do so I decided to wander about and see how things were going. We don't have to be eternal enemies, Erik."

"Ah, yes, let's just hold hands and skip around the lair then, shall we?" I said sarcastically and held out my hand in jest. He was really getting on my nerves.

"No, let's go check on the girls." To my utmost surprise, he grabbed my hand and started skipping for the door. For some odd reason, most likely shock, I let myself be led up the stairs and through the passageways to the dance studio.

"What the hell did I miss!" Madame Giry said when Raoul and I skipped into the room. Her look of surprise and outburst brought me back to my senses and I turned to glare at Raoul.

"UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT, VICOMTE!" I bellowed so loudly that that Meg and Christine came running just in time to see me take a swing at the fop.

"Erik! Stop it!" she came storming over to me. Raoul, in the meantime, checked himself in the mirror and was smoothing his hair. Evidently, something didn't feel quite right.

"My hair! What's wrong with my hair!" he yelped.

"It's greasy and very Barbie-ish," I replied. "In fact, Raoul Hanson comes to mind."

"Issac! He's my favorite! So dreamy..." Meg sighed. Suddenly Christine, Meg and Madame Giry broke into a chorus of 'MmmBOP', and sang and danced until they realized they didn't know anymore of the words.

"Ah, unlike your face which is crinkly and just plain yucky," he said from across the room.

"Yes, well that's not my fault. You could get your hair done. You look like Julia Roberts on a bad hair-day, Raoul," I was done playing nice and if Christine wasn't standing five feet from us, the Vicomte de Chagney would have been dead.

"Plastic surgery can fix a face..." Meg interjected. No one paid attention to her.

"You could get a perm," she tried again, addressing Raoul.

"I did in finishing school," he smiled at her. "It didn't work out so well."

"Micro-derm abrasion might help," Christine entered into the argument.

"You could get a bigger mask," Raoul countered.

"Christine's over the whole mask thing!"

"That is sort of true, Raoul," she relented. "His face holds no horror for me now."

"Because she's not shallow like a certain Vicomte in the room. He's in the commercials for the Pantene no-frizz conditioner. You know how his hair gets."

"At least my hair isn't the glue-on variety that no doubt covers your scalp, Erik," he got right in my face. "TOU-PE!"

"Come on over here and I'll mess up your face for you too, Raoul," I spat back. It was taking all of my self-control to keep from throttling the guy.

"Oh you will, will you? I remember kicking your ass in the cemetery."

"What about the other time that I was the bigger man and let you leave with your life in that very cemetery? You forget the fact that I spared your life as well, twice!"

"Erik, you really shouldn't make fun of dear Raoul's hair," Christine foolishly tried to stem the angry outbursts. "He's being charitable and growing his hair for Locks-for-Love. He's trying to help others, you know?"

"Maybe he shouldn't make fun of my face. What a novel idea!" I growled.

"Thank you for standing up for me, Christine, " he grinned over at her and made a reach to squeeze her hand. She grabbed it out of the way and turned to face him.

"And you, Raoul de Chagney, need to stop making fun of his face. He can't help it if he was born with such a deformed face even his own mother couldn't love and that makes women shriek and little children cry."

"Indeed, " I added and then her statement soaked in, "HEY! I see you're taking his side yet again. And his complete lack of artistic talent/couldn't carry a tune if his Locks-for-Love depended on it, doesn't worry you at all?"

"Erik has a point, Raoul. He's the Angel of Music and can work miracles. Maybe he can help you." The argument continued between Christine and Raoul for a few moments.

"Quite, seeing that singing _eludes_ him," I added.

"You do look like my grandfather on one side, Erik. Have you heard of cover-up and concealer?" Meg was completely behind the argument and off in her own little world as usual. "I'm sure no one would have a problem with a man wearing make-up in you extreme circumstance."

"I have, but I just never wanted to approach Raoul for make-up lessons." At the sound of his name, Raoul turned his attention back to me.

"Just as I have avoided you for singing lessons."

"Oh, well," I heard Christine say to Meg. She sighed and shook her head. "They probably would have just killed each other anyway."

I focused back on the long-haired-wonder in front of me who decide he had taken enough of the verbal abuse and raised his fist to strike. I reached up and grabbed it in mid-flight and parried the blow easily. He regrouped and readied to strike again when Madame Giry swiped her cane and knocked our feet out from under us. We both fell hard to the wooden studio floor and I could immediately feel sharp pains running through my right hip and shoulder. Raoul was curled up in a fetal position and gasping for breath. Christine stood over us, hands on her hips, and glared down disapprovingly.

"You two were acting like complete children. I won't stand for it, especially right now. There is too much work to be done and not nearly enough time to do it. Raoul, I think it would be best if you left for today."

"Me?" the dolt looked confused. "But he started it!" He pointed a chubby digit in my direction.

"I don't care who started it, Raoul. I would send Erik away to, but unfortunately I need him to stick around. Good bye, Raoul." She was in one of her no-nonsense moods that even I did not dare challenge. I prayed that he would be too dumb to realize it and try to plead his case. Regrettably, he had a temporary intelligent moment and took his leave.

Christine then turned her gaze to me and I closed my eyes. I knew I was in for quite a tirade. Instead, she burst out laughing and helped my old bones up. Meg and Madame Giry had melted into giggles too and I was positively perplexed.

"You two..." Christine gasped. "...are impossible!"

"You're laughing at me. Why?"

"I leave you two alone for five minutes and you are already at each other's throats."

"So, you're not mad then?" I asked, relieved.

"Of course I am. I'm so totally pissed at you right now, but we don't have time for that. There is plenty of time for your beating after the competition."

"You promise?" I jested. She responded with a punch in my sore shoulder.

"Enough of this foolishness!" Madame Giry interrupted. "Erik, do you have music yet?"

I handed the CD to her and soon it was blaring over the speakers in the studio.

"I call it 'Entr'acte'. It is a medley of songs from our past. It makes a pretty waltz, I think."

"A waltz, Erik? How are we going to win the competition with a waltz!" Christine inquired, suddenly serious.

"We can impress them with our grace and beauty, and then pull out all the stops for our freestyle routine. I already have an idea for that, but I need to work some details out first."

"Alright, we are doing a waltz. That helps me narrow down the choreography," Madame Giry was already swaying a one-two-three, one-two-three rhythm to the music.

"We're still hitting a wall in the costume department," Meg admitted.

"Do you still have that pink dress you wore the masquerade, Christine? I believe that will work just fine." Christine nodded and excused herself with Meg to look for the dress. Madame Giry was in her own world of dance, doing steps and making notes in her notebook. I clutched the pile of sheet music and went off in search or the orchestra conductor. We needed to sit down and have a little chat.

* * *

_A.N. "Entr'acte" is taken from the Original Broadway Cast soundtrack of Phantom. Their dance will incorporate the music until the loud 'Phantom Chords' as I like to call them. The argument between Erik, Raoul, and the others is actually constructed from several IM role-playing chats. Hilarity and randomness rules supreme in our little world of pretend!_

_Kitsune Blade- I 3 my #1 review. You keep me going :-D_

_pixiestars162- I am thrilled to death! I'm not really into Harry Potter, but know enough I think to get by. I promise to read yours when I get a few mintues._


	4. Chapter 4

_Yay! 200 views :-D this makes me happy! Here is the next installment...now let the hilarity begin!_

Chapter 4

"What do you mean NO?" I bellowed at the mousy-face conductor. I had scheduled a meeting to discuss the session needed to record the music Christine and I were going to use. I was quickly finding out that since I was no longer the "Opera Ghost" or true "Phantom" I was loosing respect from the entire Opera House community, faster than sane people flee from Carlotta's horrendous cackling. Even the sniveling little conductor, Monsieur Reyer, had the audacity to refuse his requests. The Erik of the past would have killed him on the spot, but the new Erik merely glared menacingly at him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but with the new production coming up, my musicians simply cannot take precious time out of their schedule to learn and record a new song."

"I swear to you that it is not a difficult piece. It will only take several hours' time," I was desperately trying to remain civil and patient, but my patience was wearing thin.

"Sir, I say again, there is not enough time..."

"Damnit! Do you realize what I have done for you and this Opera House! Do you have any idea of where you would all be if it weren't for my guidance?" The blank look on Monsieur Reyer's face told me that I was not getting through to the conductor. Taking a deep breath, I organized my thoughts and tried a different approach.

"I don't believe I have told you the occasion for this piece. Christine and I will be dancing in the competition this week. As you can see, sir, time is of the utmost importance," I rolled my eyes at his shocked expression. I was growing tired of the look of disbelief on people's faces when I informed them of my little upcoming performance.

"You and Miss Daaé will be competing against La Carlotta?"

"Yes," I nodded, thankful that some thought processes were going on in his head. "This is why we need all of the help we can get."

Monsieur Reyer looked thoughtful for a second and then reached for the music, grinning slyly.

"I'll see what we can do for you."

I grinned out of the visible corner of my mouth. It was nice to see other people feeling the same way as I did in regards to Carlotta. I suddenly felt a flicker of hope; maybe Christine and I could pull this off after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Erik, it would do you well to _avoid_ stepping on my feet, ok?" She glared at me in frustration. I could waltz; I had taught myself most of the usual ballroom dances in my spare time. My problem was that I never had a partner to worry about. When dancing with air, there were no toes to step on, bodies to crash into, or legs to become entangled in. Also, there was no voice nagging at me when I do things wrong.

I picked up the beat and started again. Waltzing in the square was no problem; neither was moving forwards and back. I took two beats of a turning waltz step before feeling the familiar uneven sensation under my foot and a grunt from Christine. I rocked my weight off of that foot as soon as possible.

"You try my patience, " she hissed at me before storming over to the stereo to turn off the music. It was ironic hear the words I had directed toward her that fateful night.

"I _am_ trying, angel. I swear I am!" I pleaded.

"Don't, _angel_, me! We have been at this for the last three hours and nothing has improved. What's wrong with you?"

"I...I don't know," I stuttered. "I'm nervous. There, I said it. I'm nervous dancing with you."

"Why?" she placed her hands on her hips and gave me an icy stare.

I lowered my head in embarrassment. I had never let anyone know how they affected me personally.

"I'm afraid I will hurt you and disappoint you," I finally mumbled.

"I see," she softened a bit. Then, realization hit her. "I have an idea! Stay here and practice."

"Ok," I agreed, and looked at my confused expression in the studio mirrors as she ran off on her quest. I walked over to the stereo and moved back to the center of the floor. Keeping my chin up and arms raised in a strong frame, I waltzed around the floor minding where my feet were placed and keeping the correct position.

A few minutes later, Christine returned, but she was not alone. I outwardly groaned at the sight of Mr. de Chagney himself as he sauntered into the room.

"What is he doing here?"

"I heard you needed help, old man," he smirked. "I don't know if I am qualified to give you the help you truly need, but I can help you to not look like a complete fool on the dance floor."

He was mocking. That little twit was mocking me!

"Are you mocking me, Vicomte? You do realize that men have died for doing less than that," I glared at him and made a strangling motion to emphasize my point. He shrugged his shoulders and followed Christine across the floor.

"Show me your position and frame, " she ordered and proceeded to pose me to her will. "Good, now hold it right there."

"Raoul, let me see your position," he did as she asked. "Good, now turn to face Erik as if you were his mirror image."

I believe the fop uttered something about never wanting to be my reflection, but was cut short with a cold look from Christine. He turned and put his right arm up to match my left one. Christine restated the music and then shoved Raoul into me.

"Now, dance."

It was Raoul's turn to go pale. I was already having a mental breakdown.

"But, I...I thought I was going to help you teach Erik to d-dance!"

"You are. You lead, Raoul. Erik, follow. Once you get a rhythm, we will switch roles. See, Erik? Now you don't have to worry about stepping on my toes," she added with a bright smile.

"Now, DANCE!"

We picked up the beat and Raoul and I proceeded to promenade around the dance floor.

"Not a word, Chagney. Not one word," I muttered through gritted teeth at his amused expression. As much as I hated to admit it, Raoul was a better-than-average dancer. I blame his high-class upbringing.

"Twirl," he said and pushed me into a spin. Totally unprepared for the direction change, I tripped and fell to the floor. I glared at the Barbie-boy who was unsuccessfully trying to cover laughter. I heard tittering from near the stereo and turned my head to see Christine leaning against it to stay upright. They thought my falling down was amusing. How wonderful for them.

Raoul finally offered a hand to help me up and I looked at it with obvious distain.

"Touch me and you're dead," I growled.

"Psh," he withdrew his hand. "I'd only touch you to make sure you're dead."

I pushed myself up and brushed off my black slacks and white shirt. Knowing that I would be working, I decided to dress light.

"Alright, again!"

Raoul and I joined up again and glided around the studio.

"Oh, the things I do for you," I muttered to Christine as we danced past her. She just winked in response.

After about half an hour waltzing around the floor with the girlie-man, Christine allowed us to take a break. Obviously, I did a far better job leading than following. He did look more like a girl anyway. Once I caught my breath, I crossed the room and offered Christine my hand.

"Shall we dance, Mademoiselle?"

XXXXXXXXX

"Bravo, bravo!" Madame Giry was beaming at our performance. Erik had improved so much the previous few days it was incredible. It seemed like he was more confident in the steps so now he could tap into that amazing grace he possessed.

"Look at that, " I teased as I smiled up at him with pride. "You didn't even step on me once!"

"I guess an old dog can be taught new tricks after all," he jested back, cocking his visible eyebrow. I couldn't help but giggle at this and remember back to a few days ago when I had forced Erik and Raoul to dance together. I knew that it would help Erik gain confidence, but the bonus of watching the two men (who would not hesitate to kill each other if it wasn't for me) waltz together had amused me to no end.

"Now that you two are fine with the waltz, we need to work on your freestyle piece. Erik, do you have the music yet?" Madame Giry inquired. I felt Erik tense up and look at the floor.

"Not yet. I need Christine's help to finish it," he mumbled. Madame Giry gaped, which had to reflect my shocked expression.

"We only have 3 days left until the competition and you're telling me that you don't even have the _music_ done yet!" I fumed. 3 days to come up and learn choreography to a freestyle song. All hope I had felt after dancing the waltz had melted away to a sense of panic and dread.

"Calm down, angel," he tried to soothe me, placing his hands on my shoulders as I glared up at him. "It will work out. I swear it."

I hated when he looked at me like that. His expression was completely commanding and spellbinding. As hard as I tried to hang onto the anger I felt, it dissipated. I had no choice but to trust him.

"It had better work out, Mr. Phantom, or else..." I left my threat unsaid, but the meaning was well taken.

He nodded in understanding and then took my hand, pulling me towards the door.

"Come, we have work to do."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Those precious few days had flown by in a flash, and before I could even blink, I found myself standing in the hallway just off of the Opera House's Grand Foyer waiting for the Dancing Divas competition to start. The man standing at my right side was fidgeting nervously at his lapels.

"Stop it, Erik! You look fine. If you keep that up, you are bound to rip something," I said, snapping at him more than I had intended. He shot a piercing glare down at me in the dim backstage lighting.

"Christine, this needs to stop. Remember for whom I am doing this. I have been nothing but patient with you this entire week but tonight is not the time to cross me. You have done nothing but criticize and nag at me these past few days, and I am sick of it," he said coldly.

I guess I had been hard on him, but I was just so _stressed_. I opened my mouth to reply as much.

"I..."

"You realize that you are quickly becoming very much like the very Diva you hate so much." The matter-of-factness in his voice made me blanch. Have I become the obnoxious, controlling, demanding snob that I dread? It was like a splash of cold water that woke me up from a daze. Suddenly, the competition didn't matter. The audience and lights didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for the person standing next to me. I turned to him and took his hands in mine.

"I'm sorry, Erik. I know I have been more than a little difficult this week. I've been just so focused on Carlotta and this stupid competition that I've almost managed to ruin one of the most important things in my life: our friendship." I meant to continue on, but all of my strength left me and I burst into sobs.

"_I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."_

XXXXXXXXX

No, now was definitely not the time for Christine to start nagging at me. I had already passed the same mirror four times making sure everything was adjusted well. The sight that greeted me had made me want to flee back to the dark safety of the lair. It wasn't the obvious image of my mask; I had come to terms with that many years ago. It was the deer-in-the-headlights expression my face held. I was determined not so show Christine how uncomfortable I truly felt and I thought I had managed to hide my nerves well. I was wrong.

"_I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."_

I hadn't meant to upset her. Damn my tongue! As usual, it was my big mouth that had gotten me in trouble. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close as her body shook. Now what was I supposed to do? I looked heavenward and did the only thing that came natural. I started to quietly sing.

_"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation..."_

Upon hearing the familiar tune, Christine's sobs ceased and she finally pulled her face away from my chest. Wiping tears away, she whispered,

"Forgive me?" I couldn't help but smile at her innocent pleading expression.

"I already have." Then to lighten her mood, I wiped away a stray tear and teased, "Oh, Christine. The things I do for you."

All too soon, I heard our names being called up as the next to perform. I took a deep calming breath nodded to Christine and led her out onto the designated dance floor.

_Seal my fate tonight..._ I thought as we stopped in the center of the large granite floor before taking up our opening poses. I heard a murmur spread through the audience that surrounded the floor. The mask. It was always the mask. I suddenly felt the old claustrophobia of being locked in a cage during my youth with the gypsies. I was just a spectacle to them, just a freak to be gawked at. I tried to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat, but it remained firmly budged.

Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the sparkling eyes of my beautiful dance partner. She gazed at me with a knowing look. She knew me well enough to know that I was scared, no matter how well I may have been able to hide it from everyone else. She grabbed my left hand in her right and dipped into the opening pose. My right arm wrapped around her back to support her body.

"Let's do it! " she smiled up at me as the music started.

At the sound of my musical composition, my nerves went away and my mind blacked out. My strong frame led Christine around the dance floor to the one-two-three, rhythm of the waltz. Round and round we went, gliding from one side to the other effortlessly. I felt like I was flying. Christine's exquisite pink gown flared and spun around her elegantly as I twirled her. The music slowed and mellowed a bit, and our movements became more ballet-like to match it. I spun her out and watched as her free arm extended gracefully at the end of the turn, before I gently pulled her back in.

I paid close attention to my posture and keeping my upper body in proper position as we once again gliding round the floor. One-two-three, one-two-three. I thought I heard some "aww" s from the audience as I dipped her backward and she extended her right leg elegantly above my shoulder. I brought her upright and sent her in another series of spins. The song ended with yet another classic dip backward. Only after we held the final pose for a few seconds did I dare to look Christine in the eye. Her face was flushed from the exertion, but her smile was beaming. I returned her smile and brought her upright again. I looked around and was amazed that I had somehow managed to tune out the loud applause until this moment. The audience was clapping and cheering for Christine...and for me. I couldn't hide the smile that had erupted on my face.

Christine and I made our way over to the judges where we received our scores...28 out of a possible total of 30. While the score may not have been perfect, I sure felt like the dance had been. We had done our best and I would have to be satisfied with that.

There were several other couples left to dance so Christine took the time to get changed into her freestyle costume. I stood in the shadows and watched the remaining couples perform. They all had talent, but it seemed as if most of them lacked the same level of connection with their partners when compared to what I had with Christine. She and I could read each other's movements so well that we were able to easily cover up any little mistake we had made during our waltz. Sighing, I looked over my shoulder and awaited my partner. _What could be taking her so long?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Christine, your hair is just not wanting to cooperate tonight!" Meg said in frustration. She and Madame Giry had offered to help me change costumes between our performances. The plan had been to have me hair done up into a tight bun, but my chocolate locks had decided to stage a revolt. Meg savagely tried to run the comb through it once more and nearly managed to pull me over.

"Ouch! Good Lord, Meg! Pulling it out of my scalp will not help the situation. Can you at least pin it back away from my face?" A look of determination crossed the blonde's features as she nodded and grabbed the box of hairpins. A full box of hairpins, half a can of mega-hold hairspray, and several bouts of screaming later, my ringlets had been tamed back out of my face and two large red flowers had been added to complete the look.

For the first time since I had stepped into the dressing room, the two women let me turn around and examine myself in the large mirror. I still could not believe the gown Erik had managed to make for me. It was long sleeved, with a neckline that rested at my collarbone, and a skirt that reached to the floor with a high slit running up the right side. The under layer was bright red which was then darkened by a top layer of black lace. Just below my waist, a sheer black material replaced the lace. There was an abundance of ruffles and the fiery red showed from beneath when I swished the skirt of the gown. (_A.N. Think Stacy Keibler's tango gown from Dancing with the Stars)_ It was perfect for our special freestyle tango/paso doble. I smiled and got shivers just thinking about it.

"You look wonderful, dear," Madame Giry said with a smile as she knelt down to strap my black-heeled dancing shoes to my feet and then smoothed the skirt. After what seemed like fleeting moments, it was time for me to help Erik get ready for our final performance of the night. I left the dressing room with my small entourage and found my partner pacing in the shadows looking quite agitated. He looked up and gazed at me as I approached. I could see to emotions running through his eyes: wonderment (probably at how his gown looked on me) and frustration.

"Where have you been? Does it really take three capable women over forty-five minutes to do a costume change?"

"Shows what you know," Meg hissed under her breath as she held up a piece of bright red satin, the very same material that my dress had been made out of. "Strip your coat, please, sir, " she instructed. Erik jumped as if he had just been shocked, and stared at the girl with wide eyes and a horrified expression. Oh to know what was going on in his mind right then!

XXXXXXXXX

"What!" My sanity was on the verge of becoming extinct and for some reason when Meg had said 'Strip…' my mind went haywire. The three women must have thought me mad. Meg just rolled her blue eyes and held up the material again.

"Take off your coat! I cannot very well put your cummerbund on over your tailcoat, can I?"

"I suppose not," I removed my tailcoat which was promptly snatched away by Madame Giry. Watching in confusion for a moment as she disappeared into the costume room with it, I held out my hand as if to beckon my beloved article of clothing back to the safety of my person, but to no avail. It was gone until such time she would chose to return it. I sighed and turned my focus back to Meg who was doing a wonderful job of putting my cummerbund on upside down.

"Meg, the folds face upward," I corrected her as gently as I could at the moment. No need to make someone else upset tonight. The girl blushed sheepishly and quickly corrected the problem, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. I felt naked without my tailcoat and was about to say as much to Christine when Madame Giry returned with it…sort of. The sight before me made me grateful that there was a wall to lean against.

"Whaa…what have you done to it! What have you done to…. my _precious…"_ I gaped. She had mutilated my tailcoat. It was barely recognizable, and I was finding it hard to breathe. I groped at Christine for support as I had a strange suspicion that my knees were about to give out.

"Oh, cut the theatrics!" Madame Giry snapped. "Your '_precious' _is safely locked away in my room. I had this coat tailored and lined with red satin to better match the dress. I figured that you needed extra flair in your ensemble." I cocked an eyebrow, quite skeptic.

"Just put it on and I do not want to hear one word of complaint," came her gruff response. I have to admit that it was not bad. The coat itself was good quality and the fit was fair. It still felt somewhat foreign to me. In addition to the red lining, a trim of black lace had been added around the cuffs and an intricate design that I could not decipher was embroidered with shiny little black beads on the back across the shoulders. The swirling pattern then wove a single line down each of the arms to the cuffs. I had to admit that it did add some flash to the outfit, but I just hoped that this last-minute change would not have an adverse affect on my performance.

All of us turned our attention back to the main area as the first group to dance their freestyle began. Christine deftly pinned a flower similar to hers on the lapel of the coat and smiled up at me.

"Relax," she said. "We made it through the tough part. This is _our_ song. It will all be fine."

"Fine?" I teased, remembering her acronym of 'fine'. "Freaked out, insecure, neurotic…"

"…and emotional. I know! I'm the one who taught you that, remember?" she laughed, lightly hitting my sleeve.

"And the student becomes the master," I whispered to myself.

I finally began to relax. Christine was standing patiently to my left, her arm through mine, and just the feel of her standing at my side was enough to calm my nerves to a tolerable level. Carlotta and her partner performed right before us. Of course Carlotta was clad in the most revealing costume that was acceptable in ballroom dancing (not a whole lot), and they had done a saucy number that to me looked like pure sex on the dance floor.

"Oh my God!" Christine said in horror, as Carlotta twisted around in her bright pink feathers. "What _is _she doing?"

"I did NOT know a body could bend that way!" Meg whined. I glanced over at her and the poor girl looked like she was witnessing a train wreck.

"Meg, be serious. You ballet dancers contort yourselves into all kinds of odd positions. This really should be nothing new to you," I lightly chastised.

"I know, but we don't do anything like this. Oh, the _horror!"_ She covered her eyes as Carlotta bent herself in a way that would make even a Kama Sutra master blush.

Madame Giry remained silently appalled with her hand over her mouth and was shaking her head slightly. To me, it appeared as if she was a stripper and her partner, Jacques, was her pole. That was just my opinion, of course, and I am no expert on ballroom dancing; however, the judges seemed to agree with me and gave low scores to their raunchy "dance".

"That was absolutely appalling!" commented the first judge. "I do believe that was the worst routine I've ever had the displeasure of witnessing. There was no dancing at all…" The second judge quickly cut him off before he continued his tirade.

"I love the costume, but I have to agree with Simoné on this one. I saw passion, but I simply did not see the style of dancing this competition calls for," the second judge remarked as kindly as possible.

"That would only have been acceptable if the _Cat Scratch Club _was hosting auditions for new dancing girls," interjected Simoné.

I found it amusing to see Carlotta's face turn crimson and then purple with rage. The first judge did seem like he had dealt with his fair share of Prima Donnas before, but I had a sneaky suspicion that the evening may turn exciting very soon if he continued to degrade the diva in front of the majority of Paris.

Finally, the third judge gave a simple, "It just didn't do it for me." He was a smart man and left it at that. Carlotta stormed off of the dance floor in a huff, feathers flying everywhere and dragging poor Jacques behind her. Christine and I made our way onto the floor in a round of applause as the judges' scores were being tallied. When they were announced, a murmur went through the crowd. Carlotta had received the lowest scores of the competition thus far. Some even cheered for the low score, which I found highly amusing. I quickly did the math in my head and realized that although Carlotta had been in first place after the first dance, we only needed to achieve a mediocre score to take her champion title away.

"_WHAT!" _came the diva's shriek from the sideline. One thing I have to give Carlotta credit for is that she is a very quick woman. It did not take her long to come to the same realization I just did.

Christine and I had taken up our starting positions on opposite sides of the floor, me being closer to the entrance. Trying to concentrate on my posture and running the opening steps in my head one last time, I suddenly saw a flash of bright pink in my peripheral vision. Turing just in time for the outraged woman to leap up and grab at my face from behind, I felt a cool breeze on the now-exposed right side of my face. It was then and there that my fragile sanity officially snapped once and for all.

* * *

_A.N. Well, I do believe the is only one chapter left :'-( Sorry for the terrible lack of updating, but Itried to make it up to you by posting 2 new chapters. Hopefully, the final installment will soon follow. _


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